


The Midday Nap

by Anonymous



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: AtLA, Avatar, F/M, Kataang - Freeform, Love, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Katara and Aang, now in their early thirties (33 and 31), have dropped little Bumi and Kya off with their Grandpa Hakoda for two weeks. Upon their return to their home in Ba Sing Se, the couple takes solace in the peace and quiet by doing something every parent longs to do- take a damn nap! Their innocuous plan takes a turn, and Aang and Katara both learn something about each other- and about life.





	

Aang opened the door to his and Katara’s home in Ba Sing Se, motioning for his wife to proceed inside ahead of him. She gave him a quick nod of gratitude-- something she always did even though she'd come to anticipate the chivalrous gesture. They'd been married for thirteen years and knew each other almost twenty, but she never wanted to take his kindness for granted. He gave a slight smile as she walked through the doorway, and followed behind until the door clicked shut.

 

Silence.

 

Katara scanned their expansive living room. A doll here, a slingshot there. Katara stepped lightly over to the lonely slingshot and knelt to pick it up.

“I still can't believe little Bumi forgot this,” she said as she turned it over in her hand. Although, she recalled, she had almost taken this favorite toy away from the rambunctious nine-year-old when he decided to play “hunter” with his little sister Kya as his prey two days ago. Katara remembered how Kya had cried and cried when the airborne pebble pelted her right in the soft spot of the temple. Bumi was a kind soul, but sometimes he didn't think things entirely through. Genes inherited from his father and his namesake, no doubt.

Aang knelt down beside her, noticing the mildly forlorn look on her face. They had just gotten back from dropping the kids off at the South Pole to spend time with Grandpa Hakoda and Uncle Sokka. It was the first time they had ever left their children for more than a night, and it was long overdue: Bumi was growing ever-bored by the day, and Kya was itching to learn more about her mother’s home and culture. She was so curious for a child of only four years.

“He'll be fine without it,” Aang offered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder for reassurance. “Your Dad will keep them so occupied with fun South Pole things that Bumi won't have any time to miss his slingshot.” Katara smiled and placed the source of most of her headaches gently on the floor where she found it. She looked up and spotted a compass, a favorite of the young and ever-curious Kya. Katara recalled in that moment that Kya had started walking at nine months old, and as soon as she figured out what that meant, she hadn't stood still since. She longed for adventure in the backyard, in the town, wherever her heart took her that day. She had been looking forward to this trip as much if not more than her brother.

Katara stood up with a little polite assistance from Aang, and she was suddenly struck with a wave of exhaustion.

“I feel like we haven't slept in almost ten years,” she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with her right hand.

“That's because we haven't,” Aang chimed with a light chuckle and a yawn. Katara moved her gaze in the direction of their bedroom. The image of their large, fluffy bed appeared in her mind: All made-up, pillows in just the right places, the comforters warm from the sunlight peeking in from the windows. And no extra lumps, otherwise known as “children.” Katara silently chastised herself for even having the thought; she missed her little lumps.

Weary, she turned to Aang. “Would you like to join me for a nap?”

He met her gaze with a smile in his eyes. “I thought you'd never ask.”

They made their way to the bedroom, leaving slingshot and compass and doll to their own devices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
The couple dressed quickly into their night clothes, Aang in simple trousers, and Katara in her favorite icy blue night robe. She struggled to remember the last time they had napped during the day. She was sure that if she asked her husband, he'd be drawing a blank as well.

They circled around the bed to their respective sides in perfect synchronicity, just as they had for the last 13 years: Aang on the right, Katara on the left. The bed was perfectly sun-baked, and as they pulled back the covers and slipped under them, they both gave a deep, audible sigh of relief. With a content, sleepy smile on her face, Katara reached her right hand out to gently touch her husband’s face. She extended her index finger to lightly play with his new beard that traced a thin line along his jaw. When he'd first said that he wanted to grow a beard, she was, admittedly, skeptical. She decided in this moment that she rather liked it. Aang responded to her gentle touch with a smile.

“Good night, my love,” he breathed.

“Good night,” she replied as she rolled over to her side and tucked her hands beneath her pillow.

Not a few seconds later, Katara heard Aang shift. She thought that was odd, as he usually slept on his back. Just as she was contemplating checking on him, she felt his finger trace a gentle line from the nape of her neck down to her shoulder.

“Oh no,” she said. Almost taking it as a challenge, Aang leaned forward and laid light kisses where her neck met her shoulders. It was her favorite spot, and he intended to use that knowledge to his advantage.

“’Oh no,’ what?” He teased, peppering her neck with kisses as he brought his hand up to caress the crest of her hip. She inhaled deeply with anticipation, but she wanted to keep up her playful charade.

“Don't you start,” she chided. Rising to the occasion, he dipped his hand down to her abdomen, hinting that he might just keep going lower. He parted his lips just enough to nibble at her neck, his beard lightly ticking her delicate skin. Oh yes, she definitely approved of the beard. He felt her shift the way she did when she was about to give in, and he knew exactly what he had to do next to get his wife right where he wanted her. He gave her a parting nibble, and raised his lips up to the area behind her ear. He heard her breath catch in her throat. He could feel her heart pounding. He had her.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he breathed. Katara let out her breath in a rush as goosebumps cascaded down her back and arms. Damn him. His breath was hot on her ear like the sun at high noon on a Summer’s day.

 

Day.

 

The realization that they were about to make love in the broad daylight washed over her like a bucket of cold water. Since the day Bumi was born, the only time they'd had the time or ability to make love was at bedtime… at night.

Aang was unaware of her change of emotion as he gently guided her over onto her back. He marveled at her timeless beauty, her infinitely deep, impossibly blue eyes. He placed his hand on her heart, the place in which he knew he would live on forever, to feel the rise and fall of her chest as her husky breath became more labored and deep. Their lips met, the kiss intensifying with each second that passed. Aang parted his lips, gently asking for her tongue with his own. She obliged, deepening the kiss, arching her back into him as he slid her night robe over her shoulder. She felt a light breeze brush her nipple as it was exposed to the air… and to him.

Instinctively, Katara raised her hand up to shield her breast from view. She was not eighteen anymore. She was a mother now, and she had never realized until this moment just how embarrassed she was by her postpartum figure. Aang noticed the change this time, and he halted his advances and his teasing. He replaced her night robe and covered her back up, much to her relief. Her eyes started to well up with tears, and Aang swore his heart broke into a million pieces at the sight.

“Katara…” he started. He waited a moment to speak again until he brought his broad, tattooed hand up to her now-wet cheek. “Katara, my love, my beautiful wife… what in the world is the matter?” Katara let out a small noise mixed with embarrassment and genuine upset, but she did not speak. Aang delicately wiped away her tears with his thumb and punctuated the gesture with a kiss on her forehead. He replaced his hand on her cheek. “You can tell me,” he said, never moving his gaze from her eyes. She leaned into his palm, letting one more tear escape before she spoke.

“I… Aang. I'm not… I don't feel beautiful anymore.” She sniffled between her sentences. “I've had two babies. My breasts are limp and unappealing,” she continued. Her initial hesitation quickly morphed into an outpouring of emotion, the tempo of her confession becoming rushed as if she would come apart at the seams should she not get her thoughts out in time. “My nipples are large and dark now, I have too many stretch marks to count, and I can't get rid of that damn stomach pudge!” Her breath came in short and quick cycles now. “You’ve only gotten better with age. I… haven't.” She turned her face to the right upon completion of her confession, away from her husband’s comforting touch this time.

If Aang thought his heart had broken before, he was wrong. Now, it was broken. This intelligent, beautiful, strong woman had spent so much of her life caring for everyone around her that she had no love left for herself. She was so accustomed to being the head, the leader, the person to look to, that anything less than perfection in herself was unacceptable. Aang closed his eyes for a breath, and when he opened them again, he had that familiar twinkle that made Katara’s heart melt every time she saw it.

“Katara,” her name sounded like velvet rolling off of his tongue. He gently coaxed her face back to him, causing their gazes to meet once more. His eyes were intent, filled with the deepest and most unconditional love for her. He started to slide the night robe back over her shoulder, stopping to make sure she would let him. She reluctantly acquiesced, and he continued to brush the light material to the side, baring her breasts and her abdomen. Aang traced the outside of one nipple with his finger, delicately and purposefully.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” Katara nervously bit her lower lip, waiting for him to explain. “I see,” he continued, gently placing kisses on her neck, her collarbone, and lower still, “an extraordinary woman who has nourished our children selflessly with her own body.” He punctuated his declaration with a lingering kiss for each nipple, drawing small gasps from his wife.

He worked his way lower, pressing his lips to her diaphragm, her navel. He detoured to her hip bones and the area beneath her belly button where her stretch marks were, pausing to speak again. “I see the tattoos that our children have left upon your unrelentingly nurturing womb.” He spotted an almost white-colored patch of stretch marks. He kissed them twice, and said with a smile, “these are from Bumi.” He continued closer to her center, and found darker, more severe marks that had yet to heal fully. “And these,” he continued between kisses, “are courtesy of Kya.” Katara let out a small laugh, and spoke for the first time in many minutes.

“She was enormous, wasn't she?” Katara added, remembering how relieved she was when Kya was finally born. Aang made a sound of agreement against her skin, a sound that almost said “trust me, I was too.”

He continued to paint her abdomen with kisses, venturing lower still. He positioned himself more centrally with Katara, and after receiving a slight nod and smile from her, gently parted her legs. He cradled her thigh with his arm as he sweetly kissed the inside, starting in the middle and working his way down. When he reached her center, he paused to look up at her. She was blushing all over, and tears once more filled her eyes. Aang resisted the urge to go to her and wipe them away; he knew they were happy tears.

“This,” he breathed, gesturing to her most sensitive place, “is the path through which our children were brought into this world.” This time, Aang started to tear up. “You alone have given me the greatest gift anyone could give: the physical manifestation of our love—our children. And that makes you perfect to me, in every way.” Katara was now choking back tears. She loved him more in this moment than she ever thought was possible.

She moved her hand down to him, cupping his face in her palm. He turned to kiss her palm, her fingers, the inside of her wrist. Another thing he knew she loved. She responded by gently guiding his head downward to her. Aang enthusiastically obliged. He guided his arms under her thighs and lovingly grasped her buttocks with his hands, lifting her to meet him. He glided his tongue over her crest, teasing, asking. When she answered with an arch of her back and a breathy whimper, he knew he could continue.

Aang continued pleasuring her. He put his tongue to work, “writing” his name in Chinese characters on her, writing her name. Katara swirled her hips rhythmically with his motions, a dance they had done so many times and for so many years. She wanted more. He moved downward this time, and after a few gentle licks of her outer lips, he entered her with his tongue.

Katara let out a fuller moan this time, indicating to her husband that he should keep going. Aang, wanting so desperately to ravish her, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, proceeded to move his tongue in creative motions, each more urgent than the last. Only seconds had passed, but Katara knew her orgasm was upon her. She grabbed the sheets below her, bracing for the impact of her pleasure. She could feel him weaving, prodding, begging her to climax for him. She cried out his name at her peak, letting out whimpers of pure pleasure on her way down.

Aang took this momentary reprieve to remove his night trousers in one swift motion. He crawled his way up to her so that they were face to face again. Katara was breathing heavily, the light of her orgasm still bright in her eyes. She felt the tip of his manhood lightly touch her, and it took all of her restraint to not pull him into her right then. Aang reached under her neck and up the back of her head to firmly grasp a handful of her luxurious hair.

“I love you,” he said. The words barely escaped his lips, for he was so anxious to take her that he could scarcely breathe. Katara answered by pulling his face down to hers and fiercely locking their lips together. She fervently lifted her hips to meet him, to take him. He could not wait a second longer.

Aang slid effortlessly into her, yet he paced himself so as to experience her, to memorize her. Katara broke the kiss to cry out in immeasurable pleasure, the feeling of him filling her almost too much for her mind to handle. He traveled deeper and deeper until he could feel her womb touching him, contracting and expanding, calling to him. She pulled back her legs to allow him in further. She wanted more of him, all of him. Aang understood her wordless plea, and he grabbed the headboard to assist him. He thrust into her then, as deeply as their bodies would allow. She gave a cry of satisfaction and amazement; though they had been married for so long, sometimes his sheer size and power still surprised her. He held her there for a moment, taking in the look on her face as her eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy.

“Aang,” she managed to let out. “I.. love—Ah!” He swirled his hips in a circular motion just then, getting her at just the right angle and putting pressure on her clitoris. Liquid heat spilled out from her, and she wordlessly urged him to give her more. Aang reached down to grasp her hair again, a physical manifestation of the urgency he was desperately trying to control within himself. He could not hold back any longer.

Aang continued to move his hips in that circular motion that they both craved, getting faster, harder, deeper. Katara moved her hips in sync with him, knowing just what he liked, too. They were both soaring to their climaxes, but Katara knew that Aang would not let himself go until he had thoroughly pleased her. They moved together in a dance as old as the spirits, but also uniquely… them. Just as Aang thought he might give in to his wife’s hypnotic hip motions, she came with a shout of his name and a whole-body cry of other-worldly climax. He responded in kind, crying out when his orgasm struck him like a thousand Earth Kingdom boulders crashing down on him. He held onto Katara as she dug her nails into his back, both of them riding out their climaxes for as long as possible.

Gradually, their cries quieted, their breathing slowed. Aang collapsed and buried his face in Katara’s shoulder, and she responded by cradling her husband’s head and back in her arms. They laid there together seemingly for eternity, breathing heavily, hearts beating as one. Aang slowly lifted his face to meet hers, a slight smile playing on his lips. Katara had not yet come down from her orgasm, but she was coherent enough to meet his gaze. She playfully stroked his bald head with her fingertips, tracing the lines of his tattoo. She loved his tattoos so much. He opened his mouth to speak, and she reverted her attention back to his eyes.

“If you ever doubt how much I love you again, if you ever doubt how beautiful you are to me again…. Tell me,” he pleaded tenderly. “I will remind you with my dying breath just how much you mean to me, and it will never be a waste of my time or energy. Tell me. And I will tell you a thousand times if I have to that you are absolutely, unequivocally everything to me. Always.” Katara leaned down to kiss his forehead, and then his tender lips. He met her sweetly, taking in the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin. She was the one to break the kiss.

“I’m still jealous of your six-pack,” she joked. They burst out in a laugh together, the hearty, genuine laugh that is born of two people spending many years together.

He laid his head back down on her and nestled in for good. It didn’t take long until Katara started to hear him lightly snoring. She lay there, gazing at her sleeping husband, unable to sleep herself. She was too excited. For she knew, though she could not possibly know how she knew, that in that moment, they had conceived their third child. She felt that familiar warmth in her womb, the feeling that only a mother could recognize. As she sat there stroking Aang’s tattoos, she sent a silent prayer to the spirits that this one would be the airbender her husband longed so much to have. With that, she drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep, with the love of her life cradled in her arms, and their baby cradled in her womb-- right where they belonged.

 


End file.
